Talking about the Boss
by MSCSIFANGSR
Summary: Brass and Grissom investigate a nine year old's kidnapping. Response to Chadini's latest Las Vegas Metro Crime Challenge #10. Mentions GSR


TITLE: Talking about the Boss

AUTHOR: Chauncey10 aka MSCSIFANGSR

PAIRING: Grissom/Brass friendship, mentions GSR.

RATING: PG-13 for language use.

SUMMARY: Grissom and Brass investigate the attempted kidnapping of an nine year old.

DISCLAIMER: I'm just playing with them. And to 'The Boss', I used the words to one of your songs without permission. I hope you understand.

SPOILERS: Every show aired in the U.S. to date.

PROMPT: Chadini's Las Vegas Metro Crime Code Challenge 10: 427 Kidnap

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Brass floored the accelerator of the black Dodge Charger, bobbing and weaving through pedestrians, other cars and traffic signals; Grissom held on to the 'oh shit bar' for dear life.

They were on their way to make an arrest on their most current case in which a perpetrator had attempted to kidnap the youngest son of visiting multi-millionaire from the Middle East.

The suspect named Max George McKay, 42, with multiple arrests, ranging from arson to attempted murder, had escaped yesterday before being apprehended at the bus station. The boy was safe, unharmed and unbothered by the attention and had been returned to his family.

Amjad Altobar, the boy's father, had given a statement on CNN as to the ineptitude of the American Justice System, calling for the perpetrator or perpetrators to be strung up, stripped and whipped as punishment. Talk show hosts were having a veritable hay day. Newspaper headlines across the national spewed forth conflicting accounts.

The Fed's had been called in; however a tip from one of Brass' informers broke the case wide open.

Brass and Grissom wanted to be on hand when the suspect was apprehended. Brass rounded the corner in the Charger on two wheels to E Street and threw the car into park.

They both breathed a sigh of relief when the officers on duty reported the Fed's were not yet on the scene.

The uniformed officers, with guns drawn, were already in the hall leading to the suspect's dilapidated apartment. Grissom watched as the officer's and Jim Brass invaded the apartment.

The first thing Gil Grissom noticed upon entering the dwelling after the policemen, was the sound of Clarence Clemon's saxophone then a lovely piano solo and then Springsteen's voice bursting in, softly:

_Beneath the city two hearts beat;_

_Soul engines running through a night so tender,_

_In a bedroom locked, in whispers of soft refusal and then surrendering._

_In the tunnels uptown the rats own dream guns him down _

_As shots echo down them hallways in the night._

_No one watches when the ambulance pulls away;_

_Or as the girl shuts out the bedroom light._

_Outside the streets on fire in a real death waltz;_

_Between flesh and what's fantasy;_

_And the poets down here don't write nothing at all, _

_They just stand back and let it all be._

_And in the quick of the knife they reach for their moment._

_And try to make an honest stand. _

_But they wind up wounded, not even dead._

_Tonight in Jungleland._

The song continues as the scruffy, unkept, slightly dirty man is arrested, read his Miranda rights, cuffed and hustled out to the squad cars for his ride to the cop shop where he will be questioned and held for the attempted kidnapping of nine year old, Aashiq Siddeeq Altobar.

One of the remaining officers goes to shut off the loud stereo blasting out the rock music, but Grissom stops him.

"You can leave that on, it's good music."

The officer looks at Grissom skeptically. Brass steps in, lowers the volume and whispers something in the young policeman's ear. The man looked first to Brass, then to the Graveshift Supervisor and then hurried off to his posting at the front door.

Grissom is gathering trace evidence with his usual investigative regard, noting some comic books, junk food containers and children's videogames scattered across the living room. He was acutely aware that Jim Brass was staring at him.

After what could have been a few minutes of collecting evidence and snapping photos, Grissom looked up and finally breathed, "What Jim?"

The stereo is still blaring the CD _Born to Run_, the opening riffs of 'She's the One' had begun.

"Didn't know you rocked out to 'The Boss'?" Brass noted.

"This album," Grissom gestured into the air, indicating the music they were listening to, "is probably one of the best rock album's of all time."

Jim regarded the CSI on his knees before him, thinking he probably needed a diversion from all the doubles and triples he had pulled since Sara decided to go on her journey of self discovery.

"Is Sara still gone?" He questioned, knowing Gil did not know when she would return to Las Vegas.

"Yes." Gil answered simply.

Brass winced. He wished for her own good that Sara had not left Grissom, her job, and her friends, but sometimes he knew, you just have to get away for your own good. He hoped she would return whole.

"Can you take off April 7th?"

"Why?" Gil looked up at the detective, before raising from his knees into full standing. Grissom stretched his body and back slightly.

"I'm going to L.A. to see an old friend of mine. I'd like you to accompany me."

Grissom stared intently into Brass' blue eyes. "I wouldn't want to interrupt a family reunion with Ellie or be a third wheel around Annie."

Brass laughed. "No, Gil, I want you to meet a friend of mine who plays a mean guitar."

Grissom frowned, attempting to understand what the detective was trying to say to him. "Explain."

"You really want to hear this? It's a long story." He whispered in a tone of conspiracy; Grissom nodded, Brass continued, "It was 1971 on the 'Jersey shore and I was a mere lad. My dad carried us down there on a very rare vacation. I was…"

Four Federal Justice Department Officers suddenly commanded the room. The most senior officer was dressed in a dark unitarian three piece suit. The man was sweating, after all, who would wear a three piece suit in Las Vegas in the middle of summer? The officer broke the now pervasive silence that saturated the room since their arrival.

"Where is the suspect?" He demanded. His name tag hung, unceremoniously at his lapel backwards, so they were unable to ascertain his name.

"Detective James Brass. He's in a squad car on his way to headquarters. Left here about 10 minutes ago." Brass intoned.

The Fed in charge, without a name, pulled a cell phone out of his pocket. "The perp is on the move in a black and white. Have a extra detail of agents provide intensive protection when they reach the PD. We don't want an international disaster."

The four men left the room, sucking the air from the room as the door slammed behind them.

"Hmmm. That was interesting." Grissom laughed.

"Yeah. I'm sure they'll take credit for the apprehension and arrest, too." Brass snickered. "I better get back. I might need to claim some of the glory." Brass was making his way to the door when Grissom stopped him.

"So, you knew Springsteen back in the day and you want me to go to L.A. with you to see the concert and you'll introduce me to him?"

"Damn, Gil, you are a good investigator. I didn't even finish my story." The glint in Brass' eyes belayed amusement. "But, yeah, you want to go?"

"Sure, it would be fun." Grissom responded.

THE END

A/N: Bruce Springsteen and the E Street Band will be at the Honda Center in Anaheim on April 7th and 8th. Hope anyone in that area can go to the concert. Springsteen rocks!


End file.
